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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24359530">A Convergence of Nightmares</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/avennvares/pseuds/avennvares'>avennvares</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shades of Magic - V. E. Schwab</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Compliant, Falling Out of Love, M/M, Misogyny, Murder, Original Characters - Freeform, White London</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:49:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,102</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24359530</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/avennvares/pseuds/avennvares</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>White, for the starving world...</p>
<p>Tris makes his money by stalking London streets and cutting the throats of those stupid enough to jingle their change. He has long since cut his ties with his humanity.</p>
<p>The only thing that keeps him grounded is Laine— his lover, and a man with an inkling of magic that puts a target on his back. Tris has been keeping him alive for years, fighting off anyone who tries to take that magic for themself. </p>
<p>When the Danes are suddenly killed, it throws London into chaos as the fight for the throne begins.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Original Male Character/Original Male Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Convergence of Nightmares</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Koda walks into the Scorching Bone, he isn’t met with the thunderous applause he was hoping for. No pats on the back, no congratulations, no “Let me buy you a drink!” No, everyone is eerily quiet, voices hushed and the clink of glasses on the counter. No eyes even turn his way. But what else should have been expected from the inhabitants of this gritty tavern filled with murderers, thieves, and other types of crooks? Koda slinks his way to the bar and plops himself into a stool, ordering himself the strongest drink the Bone has to offer and pushing his greasy hair out of his face.</p>
<p>	“Heard your girl had a baby,” a toothless man to Koda’s left said as Koda lifts his drink to his mouth. Koda glances at the man and grins. Tamir. A regular at the Scorched Bone who frequently sat near Koda. Koda wouldn’t say they were friends—Tamir was at least in his late forties, whereas Koda was barely twenty—but they’d had a few conversations. When Zola had gotten pregnant, Koda had came to the Bone and lamented the loss of his freedom, and the loss of messing around with multiple girls. Not that he was actually seeing girls besides Zola. It was just a front he put up around other guys… made him look tough in this crowd. But even though Zola owned his heart for two years, the news that she was with child still upset him. He wasn’t ready to be a father. He wasn’t sure he ever wanted to be a father. He tried to convince Zola to kill it, but she’d gotten so upset when he mentioned it that he felt like he had to take it back just to get her to stay with him and stay happy. Zola stayed pregnant, and just hours ago a baby popped right out of her. </p>
<p>	Well, not popped… Slowly slimed out of her, would be a more accurate description. Koda had nearly passed out at the sight of the baby’s head suddenly appearing in his favorite piece of Zola’s body. He wondered if the experience would ruin sex for him forever. How could he go down on his girl without thinking of the blood, the wide, gaping hole while a full head of hair pushed its way out of her? Would Zola ever squeeze around Koda again or was she ruined now? There was no way sex could be pleasant anymore. Koda understood why, now, his father had murdered his mother all those years ago.</p>
<p>	Not that he would murder Zola. He loved Zola. He’d do his best to love that little monster, too. </p>
<p>	“Little baby boy,” he said to Tamir. “Spitting image of me.”</p>
<p>	Of course, Koda didn’t think the baby looked anything like him. No, to him the baby looked like a wrinkled, bloody mess. A weird gray blob that immediately started crying. Koda could say goodbye to any sleep for the next year. Why hadn’t she just gotten rid of the damn thing?</p>
<p>	And, oh, the way Zola had cooed and hummed as she held the thing in her arms. Her hair had been wet with sweat and sticking to her forehead, her eyes sunken from the exhausting procedure of the child birth. Koda had never seen her look so ugly. She barely looked at him as he stood there and stared at her. Her eyes were only for the blob in her arms. </p>
<p>	A glass of ale slapped the wood of the bar, condensation already gathering. “To the new father,” the barman said, and spit on the floor. “May the boy live to adulthood.”</p>
<p>	Koda lifted to glass and saluted him before bringing it to his lips. May the bastard die in the night, he thought.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It didn’t take Koda long to get properly buzzed. The world had begun to blur around the edges as he rocked and sang an old shanty that his mother used to hum while she cooked. None of the Scorching Bone’s other patrons joined Koda in song, but that was alright. This was his moment after all; he was the new father. His celebration. A personal pity party meant only for him.</p>
<p>	In the back of Koda’s mind, he knew he should be more careful. London was a city full of cutthroats, the toughest sons of bitches in the country all gathered here in this dying city. Being drunk made you vulnerable. Chances of being mugged or murdered in London streets were high on an average day, and being inebriated only increased those chances. But Koda couldn’t find it in him to care an ounce.</p>
<p>	“May I buy you a drink?” A voice said on his right. Koda turned his head in the direction of the voice (or, rather, his head flopped in the direction of the voice) and saw that a man with white blond hair had taken the previously empty stool next to him. The man wore a long, black coat with patches sewn into it in certain spots. He had wrinkles around his eyes, but he didn’t look too much older than Koda. “I heard you’re celebrating the life of a child.”</p>
<p>	“Celebrating?” Koda spat. “Bah. Mourning, more like.” He turned fully towards the man and smacked an elbow down onto the counter top. “I’ll take a drink.”</p>
<p>	The man waved the barkeep over and ordered two more ales, one for Koda and one for himself. Koda immediately tucked in. </p>
<p>	“I wanted her to kill the damn thing, not ruin her body with it.” He slammed the ale back. “But she wanted to be a mother.” His voice turned up in pitch, mockingly. “‘I’ve always wanted to be a mother!’ Bullshit! What good is a mother anyway? All they do is cry and bitch. Probably ‘cause they’ll never experience another orgasm. Little monster tears their cunts right open.” He turned and spit, but the saliva clung to his lip and dribbled down his chin instead. He wiped it away angrily. </p>
<p>	The man drew circles in the ring of water left from the mug of ale.  “That does seem unfortunate. I couldn’t imagine waking up one day and being a father.” He pushed his ale towards Koda, who happily accepted. </p>
<p>	“You got a girl?” Koda asked the man after he swallowed.</p>
<p>	“No,” the man answered. A smile lifted his lips. “No girl.”</p>
<p>	“Lucky you. When you get one, kill the baby for her.”</p>
<p>	“Noted,” he replied. “Why don’t I help you get home? You look like you can barely walk.” </p>
<p>	Now that he mentioned it, Koda felt like he could barely walk. And he probably should get home to Zola and the... the baby. Face his problems head on instead of crying over his lover’s lost body and his lost sex life. “Alright,” he mumbled. “Get me home.”</p>
<p>	The man helped him down from the barstool, and Koda wrapped an arm around his neck for balance. The two unlikely friends moved across the stone floor of the Scorching Bone and into the washed out world of London. Koda was shocked to see that the sky had grown dark. Had he been drinking that long? He couldn’t recall when he had arrived. He missed Zola, wanted to lay his head on her breasts and listen to her heart beat as she stroked his hair.</p>
<p>	“D’you think her tits are leaking milk yet?” Koda asked his new friend. He couldn’t think of anything less attractive than a part of Zola’s body becoming a food source.</p>
<p>	“Most likely,” the man answered. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”</p>
<p>	“Can’t believe,” he slurred, “that some other man is gonna be sucking on her tits. It’s like she’s goin’ behind my back and sleeping with someone else.”</p>
<p>	“It must be hard on you. To suddenly have to share you wife.”</p>
<p>	“S’not my wife! Never gonna be my wife either. Should throw her out. Let London have ‘er.” Koda had loved Zola, wanted to give her the entire world. Would have done anything for her. So why couldn’t she have done this one thing for him? Why become a mother?</p>
<p>	“That’s too bad; I can’t imagine London would be too good to her.”</p>
<p>	Koda barely heard him. “Y’know what I did? I stole it. All the money she’d been hiding from me. She’d been hiding money from me. Keepin’ it for that bastard in her belly most likely. I took it all tonight.”</p>
<p>	The man hummed— Koda felt it vibrate against his head. And then he felt he back his a hard, stone wall. As if he had been thrown. He slid down the wall, his knees buckling beneath his own weight. “Th... this ain’t my house,” Koda said as he took in his surroundings for the first time since they left the Bone. Thinking back on it, Koda hadn’t given the man any directions. They were in an alley, hidden in the shadows from the rest of London. </p>
<p>	“No,” the man said. “It isn’t.” Koda watched in horror as he pulled a dagger from his boot. The blade glinted in the moonlight. Blood rushed in Koda’s ears; his heart jumped into his throat. </p>
<p>	“You’re not gonna kill me, are you?” Koda’s voice betrayed the panic that was rising in Koda. He couldn’t take his eyes off of that blade. The man stepped closer, his free hand reaching down and closing around the collar of Koda’s coat. “Wait!” He was pulled back up to his feet, he head slammed against the stone behind him. His head spun and his ears rung. “I have a wife and a new baby son at home. You can’t kill me!”  Koda was begging. He’d say anything to get this man away from him. “I can pay you! I have money!” He had sobered up in an instant.</p>
<p>	“I don’t think your family will miss you much,” the man said. The blade kissed the skin of Koda’s throat— he felt the warmth of his blood well up around it and begin to spill down. “And I’m going to take your money either way.” </p>
<p>	“Please, Zola is waiting for me, she’s wait—“ the plea turned into a garbled, choked mess as the man dragged the blade across his throat, his blood freely pouring over the blade, the man’s hand, and his own chest. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tris dropped Koda’s now lifeless body to the ground, bending down to search his pockets for the remainder of his bar money. When his hand found a cloth pouch, he smiled, pulling it out of Koda’s pocket and depositing it into his instead. He wiped Koda’s blood on his pants and returned his dagger to its rightful place. It had pained him, playing nice with Koda and listening to him cry about his misfortunes. A lover who had gotten pregnant. As if that were worse than a lover who had died. Pitiful man. </p>
<p>	But Tris had been a killer for a long time, and knew an easy target when he saw one. He also knew that everyone else in the Scorching Bone were watching Koda like vultures, waiting for him to leave so they could make their attack. Tris wasn’t going to sit by and let someone else take such an easy kill from him. Such easy money. </p>
<p>	He did feel sorry for the new mother— Zola, he had said in his last moments. A new mother, without anyone to help her. Though he doubted that Koda would have been much help alive. Still, it would be hard when she realized her lover, the father of her child, wouldn’t be coming home. Every time she looked at her son’s face, she would wonder if Koda had ran off with another woman, if the pressure of being a father was too much for him.<br/>	Who knows. Maybe it would have been, if Koda lived. </p>
<p>	But Koda was dead, and his money— the money Zola had saved for her newborn baby— was Tris’s money now. Tris needed it just as badly, he assumed. Everyone in London would benefit from a little coin. He whistled as he made his way through London streets, passing by others foolish enough to wander in the night. His feet led him a a small home with a wooden door that looked like it would fall over if someone knocked too hard. Tris pushed it open, and entered his home.</p>
<p>	It was only one room; a kitchenette and a space for living. There was a makeshift bed on the floor, made with tattered old blankets that barely provided any comfort against the hard, cement floor. The best thing about the little home was a tiny fireplace, which currently had a fire going in it. In front of the fire was a snoring lump.</p>
<p>	Tris moves to the lump, bending down to shake his shoulder. Slowly, Laine comes to. His blue eyes blink up at Tris, a soft smile settles over his face. “You’re home late.” Laine’s voice is soft, always soft. It used to work as a lullaby for Tris. </p>
<p>	“You’re sleeping in front of the fire again,” Tris answered. Laine sat up, rubbed his eyes with his fists. A thin layer of soot laid over his wiry, brown hair. </p>
<p>	“I was cold.” Laine yawned, reached out a hand for Tris to pull him up. Laine was always cold; his fingers felt like ice whenever they touched Tris’s skin. “Make me tea?” Tris helped him to his feet.</p>
<p>	“Do we have any?” Tris asked.</p>
<p>	“If not, just heat up some water. It’s freezing.” As Tris moved into the kitchenette, Laine lifted a blanket from their bedding and wrapped it around his shoulders. “Did you make any money today?”</p>
<p>	Laine knew very well what Tris did for money— nearly everyone in London got by in the same way. Laine just didn’t like to say what it was out loud. Blood made Laine feel faint. An unfortunate characteristic in London. Tris tossed him the pouch.</p>
<p>	“Some guy stole a bunch of coin from his wife. I don’t know how much.” He put the kettle on and began to look for tea as Laine counted the money. </p>
<p>	Laine whistled. “Enough to get us some eggs in the morning. Bread, too, probably. Maybe even a little milk.” He smiled up at Tris. “We’re rich.”</p>
<p>	“Don’t say that too loud.” He shook a small tin, finding a small amount of tea leaves. Enough for a weak cup. He grabbed a chipped mug. “We’re only rich if we keep our lives.” </p>
<p>	“You worry too much,” Laine chided. He came up behind Tris and wrapped his arms around his middle. The blanket slipped from his shoulders and pooled around their feet. “Can I go with you tomorrow? To get the food?”</p>
<p>	A twinge of annoyance went through Tris. This happened more often than not when Laine touched him. It wasn’t always like this— Tris remembered he used to feel glee when Laine was near, when Laine’s hand took Tris’s, when Laine’s lips touched his temple. “You know that’s not safe.” </p>
<p>	“I’ve been stuck in here for so long,” Laine whined. Again, Tris felt that annoyance, quickly turning to anger, bubble up. Of course Laine had been stuck in the house. Tris was trying to keep him safe, keep him alive. He knew how Londoners looked at Laine in the streets, like they wanted to cut him open and drink his blood. Tris kept Laine alive. But out in the market? How could Tris keep his eyes on Laine to make sure no one went for him?</p>
<p>	Tris poured the tea into the mug, moving out of Laine’s embrace. He held the mug up to him. “Do you want this?” Laine accepted the tea; Tris watched him walk back to the fireplace—his favorite spot— and sit down. Finally, Tris took his coat off, tossing it to the floor, and then took the spot next to Laine.</p>
<p>	Steam rose from the cup. Laine blew on it, then raised his right pointer finger, lazily twirling it in the air. Tris propped his arm on his knee, head resting in his hand, and watched as the liquid mirrored Laine’s movements. “I don’t know why you can’t just drink it.”</p>
<p>	Laine grinned at him. “It’s more fun this way. I like to show off to you.” But he took a sip. “Tastes more like water than tea.”</p>
<p>	“You said to boil water if there was no tea.”</p>
<p>	“I did...” Laine watched the fire for a moment, and Tris watched him. When did he stop thinking that Laine was beautiful? His hair was dark, full, healthy. Tris used to lay awake and stare at it, running his fingers through it. And his eyes— green and bright in a way that Tris’s were dead. Tris never looked at Laine that way anymore. When did loving him become a chore? It was hard; loving someone who had a target on his back. Laine’s magic was weak, barely useful for anything except stirring milk into tea. And yet, any amount of power made you a target in London. Maybe in all of Makt it was that way, but Tris had never been outside the city.</p>
<p>	Londoners wanted power, wanted magic, and would kill to get it for themselves. Kill, and drink their victims blood. In London, blood held power. They believed drinking it would transfer the magic to them.</p>
<p>	Tris didn’t particularly want to try it for himself.</p>
<p>	“So, can I come?”</p>
<p>	Tris sighed; a long, exhausted sigh. “Stay by my side.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The feeling of ice cold fingers jerks Tris out of his sleep. He jumps at the touch, eyes flying open. In the dark of their small home, Tris can just make out his lover’s shape, curled up tightly next to him. His fingers press down against Tris’s skin.</p>
<p>	“Warm me up,” Laine whispers. His lips touch Tris’s neck; they, also, are freezing. </p>
<p>	“You’re so cold,” Tris whispers back, and he takes Laine’s hand in his, blows his warm breath over them. His eyes adjust to the darkness, and he sees Laine looking up at him with wide eyes. So wide, and so vulnerable. Tris’s heart beats faster, and Laine moves closer—he’s already so close, how is it possible to get closer?— and wraps a leg around Tris’s waist. Their chests push together. Laine takes his hands back, and their breath meet each other’s, mingles before their lips meet. </p>
<p>	Their mouths move together, and slowly Laine’s icy lips begin to warm under Tris’s. Laine’s hands trail down Tris’s chest, and he tries not to jump away when frozen fingers dip below his waist</p>
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